Incarcerated
by Laura178
Summary: AU.AH.M. “'Isabella.' 'It’s Bella.' 'Bella.' 'Edward.' 'It’s Doctor Cullen.' 'Edward.' ...'SLCPD' was the last thing he saw of me as I left his office. “Salt Lake City Police Department” stamped on the back of my orange polyester uniform."
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: Stephenie Meyer is pretty awesome. And if the characters were mine, it wouldn't be called Fanfiction. This story has now been officially disclaimed. **

**A/N: I've been playing with this idea for a couple of weeks now, so let me know what you think. As far as I know, there isn't anything like this on Fanfiction.**

CHAPTER ONE

**State-Mandated Brain Shrinking**

"My heart was pounding at like, three or four hundred beats per minute. Mind you, that's just like, a rough estimation." I smirked over at my official 'head-shrinker.' He was not impressed.

"Are we going to have a serious discussion today, or are you just going to sit there and be a smart ass?"

"Sorry babe; I expect it's just a part of my natural charm," I smirked. My nose itched; I used a blackened fingernail to scratch at it. Much better.

He was scribbling furiously on a stern-looking clipboard. Good. For the big bucks they probably forked over, he sure as hell better be doing _something_.Because god knows he hadn't "fixed" me yet. Like I was a computer or something; just find the 'reboot' button.

I snorted out loud- that elicited an eyebrow raise. Thankfully, no stupid rhetorical questions this time. If I heard '_And how does that make you feel?'_ again I was going to kill somebody.

I laughed out loud this time. That was ironic. But again, he barely reacted. I wondered briefly if he had seen it all, or if he was just really good at pretending to care when he actually didn't give a shit. I suspected the latter.

Taking the opportunity, I used the time to stare at the specimen before me. He was everything that a person should be: employed, responsible, an upstanding citizen… and sort of beautiful. For a prick, anyway. He might be mind-blowingly gorgeous if he would stop making that face at me.

"Miss-"

"Why can't you call me by my first name? I call you by yours." I cracked my knuckles.

There. That face. The one where his eyebrows pinch together and he flares his nose, like he smells something bad. His eyes remind me of home- spring and gloom all at once. I think that his face looks like a rainy day in Forks: misery layered on top of beauty like thick marmalade.

His smooth voice interrupted my dissection of him. "As I was saying, can we talk seriously for a minute. Just sixty seconds, give me that much."

I shrunk down in the big chair and pulled my legs up to my chest. God, I hated the color orange- this stupid uniform made me look like Charlie Brown's Great Pumpkin. "I suppose." I popped the 'p'- I just couldn't resist.

"We were talking about how you felt in the moments just before…" He allowed the sentence to trail off, like he might have happened to lose his train of thought. But I knew better; he didn't want to say it out loud. Not here, not in this white room. It would have clung to the walls, dripped venom on the graying carpet, and hung in the air.

"I told you. Everything was… fast. I was breathing fast, and sweating, and then all of a sudden, only one thing stuck out in my head. It was the only clear choice, and I had to do it. That's all I can tell you."

He used a long-fingered hand to jot something down in my ever-expanding file. I noted that he was left-handed. "Had you ever thought about this before the… incident?"

I chose my words carefully. "No. I never meant for any of this to happen. Not any of it."

"But it did," he said bluntly. "And I refuse to believe that there was no solid, concrete reason for it. People don't just… you're not insane. I've seen some messed up people, and you're not one of them."

"Oh, stop. You're making me blush."

That face again. "Did anything ever happen between the two of you… was he at all abusive?"

I considered my answer carefully. "No."

"Did he threaten you in anyway?"

"No."

"Did he ever threaten your mother in anyway?"

"No." Stop asking me questions.

"Did you think that you would get away with it?"

"Probably not."

"Look, you and I both know that-"

Drumming my fingernails on the edge of my chair, I glanced up at the doorway where the industrial black clock was keeping watch over our one-sided conversation. "I think it's been more than sixty seconds."

Deep sigh. He pinched the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger, like maybe he could make the crease between his eyebrows more mournful. I wonder if that's possible.

"Do you think you'll ever really let me in?" For a moment, the words pierce me to my core. He runs a hand through his reddish hair, but doesn't look away from my face. I feel like he's searching for the words I won't say, trying to siphon them straight from my thoughts.

For a minute I'm tongue-tied, and might have told him everything right there if I hadn't lacked the ability to speak English for a minute. Maybe I was wrong- he is completely, undeniably, mind-blowingly gorgeous.

"Probably not," I manage to stutter out. Hopefully he didn't see the brief flash of red in my cheeks.

He puts on that look again, and I feel relieved. Him knowing that his gaze made me stupid enough to blurt anything would not be a good thing. Besides, I actually thought we had a pretty good dynamic going. Not everyone in here appreciates sarcasm like my good old psychiatrist. And that's saying something because, obviously, he just _lives_ for my witty remarks.

"Same time tomorrow, doc?"

He nods warily, clearly already looking forward to the next day's session. I'm glad to see that he has put his layer of fatigue back on- anything to lessen the likeness to an Armani model.

"Great," I nod, rolling the 'r'. "It's a date."

He looks up at that but doesn't comment, choosing instead to wave a finger in the direction of the glass-paneled door, like you might gesture at a waitress for your bill, or some more coffee. Almost immediately, an annoying buzzing sound fills the silence and the thick glass swings forward.

I move slowly towards the end of the room, not wanting to leave just yet. Anywhere was better than where I was going.

Cold metal snapped around my wrists, and I flinched at the sound involuntarily. I thought that he might have noticed my reaction.

"See you tomorrow, Bella." I started again- not because the guard had just yanked me forward a couple of steps toward the mouth of hell- but because of the way my name sounds falling through his lips. Usually it's "Miss Swan" or "Isabella". I hate that way that feels; too many harsh, staccato 's' sounds, firing through teeth like accusations. His voice wraps around me, providing some bit of protection until tomorrow.

"Bye, Edward."

I turn around completely now, being lead back through the labyrinth of gates and alarms and offices and hallways.

"SLCPD" was the last thing he saw of me as I left his office. "Salt Lake City Police Department" stamped on the back of my polyester uniform, branded there for all the world to see:

Danger.

Criminal.

Incarcerated.

**A/N: So this is pretty much setting up the story. I personally really like the way the characters are, but let me know what you think. Should I continue?**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Okay, so… here is the scoop. If you have been reading my other stories, you are probably wondering why on earth I haven't updated them in a million days (I will be making this same announcement on those stories, too). Anyway, the deal is that things are not so good for me right now. Long story short, I'm not sure how much longer I can continue to live with my parents, so I'm currently working my butt off to save money, because I'm not naïve and I know that living on your own is really hard… and expensive. **

**Of course I still want to write. Please just bear in mind that I go to school full time, work a hell of a lot, and need to sleep. **

**ANYWAY I'm still sort of in love with the idea of this story, so I will continue to toy with it in my spare time. **

CHAPTER TWO

**The Session**

I had been in prison for exactly three months, three weeks, and three days. I had been meeting with Edward almost every day for two months of that time. It would be just about perfect if it didn't go hand in hand with the whole steel bars and shitty food thing. Actually, it would be completely perfect if he would just shut up… he was always bringing up the stuff I didn't especially want to talk about. Too bad sitting there and just letting me gawk at him in silence was not in his job description.

"Hey, Alice."

"Morning Bella." Alice and I came in about the same time, and both of us were considered 'high-security' prisoners, so we ate lunch with all the other 'dangerous' criminals. We usually got some good laughs out of it; we were both relatively small and weak women trying to shovel our food down and leave the room before the really twisted criminals in here could do more than notice us.

"How was Doctor McFuckMe yesterday?"

I choked and almost sprayed the "stew" all over a guy with more than a few questionably attractive tattoos. "Alice! I cannot believe you just said that!"

"What?" Alice was still laughing at me. "It's so true. And we've been locked up in here for a _long _time Bella, if you know what I mean."

I raised my eyebrows at the girl across from me. "And what about poor old Jasper?" Jasper was supposedly the man of Alice's dreams. In fact, he was sort of the reason she was here in the first place.

"Well it's not like they allow me any conjugal visits. And let me tell you Bella, I have a lot of frustrations to work out."

I dropped the plastic spork (metal forks could be considered a weapon) and covered my ears with my hands. "My ears, Alice! Anyway, back to your original question: the session was the same as always. He talked at me, and I did my best to piss him off. And, of course, stare at his face."

Alice nodded and started on the crap they liked to call steamed vegetables. "I don't know why they think stocking this place with therapists will help any. It's not like anyone is going to talk."

"I don't get it either, but I have actually have to meet with him again today," I sighed.

I rose to leave, but Alice wrapped her bony hand around my forearm. "Bella? Why don't you just tell him the truth?"

"No, Alice," I snapped. "I told you that that's never going to happen. If you think that's such good advice, why aren't you following it?"

"I-" she opened and closed her mouth stupidly for a second. "Well… because I love-"

"Exactly."

ECECECECECECECECECECECECECECECECECECECECECECECECECECECECECECECE

**"**Isabella."

"It's Bella."

"Bella."

"Edward."

"It's Doctor Cullen."

"Edward."

I thought that he might have smiled a little bit then, but of course it could have just as easily been a grimace.

"Let's just get started then, shall we?"

"Nope, sorry, I'm not exactly in the mood to be productive today."

"Great, I'm glad you're all set to go." He didn't even falter, just rubbed one large hand across the stubble on his chin. "How's the day been so far?"

"Oh, you know, just grand. First I went out for breakfast at The Ritz with the President. Later we got pedicures together. It was just peachy."

"I'm glad you had a nice time."

"I'm glad you've given up."

"Ah, but who says we've given up?"

I could swear he was almost grinning now. He was so goddamned smug sometimes. And I liked it. I leaned forward on the couch, preparing for a nice round of verbal sparring. "You sound so stupid when you say that."

"Um, what?"

"You know, the 'proverbial we'. It's so…ninth grade English teacher of you. Do they teach you to say that in therapist school? Some shit about how it'll help the patient to subconsciously connect to you?"

He put down his pen. "Yes, actually. As you see, it's worked marvelously in your case. So I guess I can check that off my list."

"That's what you have written on that file? Notes to remind yourself how to be a Doctor? Aw, Edward, it's okay…I'm sure you'll pass your med test one day."

He laughed a tiny bit. "You really think I'm a fake doctor?"

I pretended to look at him dubiously. "Well, you are kind of young. What are you, twenty-eight?"

"Twenty-three, actually."

Oops. "Well, don't worry about it Edward. I'm sure if you actually went home and slept once in a while-" my eyes purposefully lingered on the rumpled clothes and the state of his untamable hair- "you wouldn't look so old."

"I guess I would be kind of old to you, either way," he snorted and looked at a page of my file quickly. "You're only nineteen."

I kicked at the carpet in an annoyed way. "So? I know you think I'm some stupid bitchy kid who's just here to waste your time. You don't know anything about me, Edward. Don't you dare judge me."

"I'm a shrink Bella. That's sort of what they pay me to do."

I looked everywhere but at him for a moment. "So do you actually care about the people you talk to, or is this just another day at the office? I mean, I guess you talk to some pretty fucked up people."

Edward actually looked really insulted. His eyes got that dangerous flashing look in them; the look that you see on another person's face right before they tell you just where you can shove it. "Of course I care about you, Bella. Why do you think I've put up with you for so long?"

"Well, besides the fact that I am outrageously attractive- especially in these clothes- you find my sarcastic charm irresistible."

"Yeah, you got it," he said and rolled his eyes toward the tiled ceiling.

We both didn't talk for at least five minutes. Edward pretended to study his clipboard like it was the freaking Bible and Judgment Day was coming up quick. I pretended to study my fingernails. Really, we just studied each other. What the hell would make him want to work here? To talk to the sick fuck-ups that come through this place every day? But more than that, why did he seem to genuinely care?

"Why do you give a shit?"

"Excuse me?" He looked up and tried to play it off as though he had only just remembered my existence. Nice try, Mr. Smooth.

"Well, as messed up as this is going to sound, you're the only person I think I know who seems to give a shit about me at all."

"Tell me what you mean by that." I saw him pick up his pen.

"Jesus, Edward, I'm just trying to talk to you here. Don't go all professional doctor on me."

"I'm not-"

"Please don't bullshit me, Edward. I am so tired of people doing that to me."

"Then let me talk! I'm not trying to bullshit you, Bella. I want to help you. Not because it's my job, but because I believe that you are worth caring about. Why is that so hard for you to understand?" He was mad at me, strangling the poor defenseless pen in one fist. He was even sexier like this- _knock it off, Bella!_

I stood up from the cheap sofa and clenched my hands at my sides. "Because it is! Because I'm me, and you're you!"

"You can't just keep avoiding your problems, Bella. It's time to grow up! I want to help you; I want you to talk to me! Do you understand that you will go to jail- permanently this time? How can you want that?" he yelled. He stood too, letting the charts and papers and God knows what else was in there- probably my kindergarten spelling tests- fall in a mess at his feet.

Before I even thought about it, I strode across the small space separating his chair from the place where mine was. I wanted to hit him so badly, and I couldn't see straight anymore. "Just shut up for once, Christ, Edward!" I even stretched a hand out to smack him or something, but he caught my wrist easily. He didn't let go.

"No," he said firmly, not shouting anymore.

"What do you mean, 'no'? And let go of me, you idiot!" His grip was starting to hurt me a little bit. His fingers had wrapped all the way around my wrist, so that they overlapped the bone.

"Bella, I'm not going to give up on you. I'm the one person you can't push away."

"I said let go of me!"

"And I said grow up, but apparently neither of those things are happening anytime soon." Edward yanked my wrist toward his body, so that I was forced to take another step closer to him. At this small distance it was hard to remember why I needed to tell him to get off of his high horse.

"I hate you," I said like some pathetic twelve-year old. It was true though. I didn't care what the hell he thought. He could think, and write, all he wanted on his clipboard. I didn't have to tell him the truth-ever.

"Do you?"

His was leaning down and our faces were maybe two inches away. I saw his eyes flicker to my lips. Edward was too close- or maybe I was too close to him. I noticed that my face was angled upward, my calves tenses to raise onto my toes and bring my lips to his. I couldn't breathe. The hand on my arm was suddenly burning me, lighting every piece of my body with anticipation. We were just an inch away now. He was all I could see and smell and God, I wanted to touch him. My lips parted slightly.

"Yes," I answered his question. As I spoke, my lips brushed against the corner of his mouth. "I hate you."

And then I yanked out of his grasp, stormed to the armored door, and pressed the call button purposefully. I didn't look back at him.

ECECECECECECECECECECECECECECECECECECECECECECECECECECECECECECECE

I saw Alice next morning for breakfast; seven A.M. as usual. "Morning," I groaned. I hadn't slept well last night. Three months, three weeks, four days.

"I'm sorry Bella!" she blurted out immediately. "You were so right! I'm sorry, I don't know what I'm talking about half the time, and the other half some crazy demon child just takes over my mouth and-"

I cut her off before she had a coronary. How she managed to be so enthusiastic all the time, I'll never know. Alice was a person of extremes. "It's fine, Alice."

"Thank God," she smiled at me. "I was so worried I was going to have to make friends with Biker Bob over there."

I smiled back over our, um… porridge? Oatmeal? Breakfast soup? I really wasn't sure. Biker Bob didn't look too happy with the meal the state of Washington had so kindly provided us with, either.

Our third week here, Alice and I had started to name all the other high-security inmates. Sure, if they found out they would probably do something to us that I thought only happened in an HBO series, but at least it made life interesting. There was Biker Bob, of course, Scuzzy Steve, Homer with a Boner, Tommy McWhirl Never Gonna Get a Girl… yeah it's safe to say that we got pretty bored.

"So…" I ventured after a while. "Have you heard anything from Jasper lately?" When Alice wasn't out in the common areas with me she was in her cell writing novels to Jasper, or pouting at the guard to try and get him to let her use the phone. She really had it bad for this guy, and she was only a year older than me.

Alice squealed. "I thought you were never going to ask! Jasper's coming to visit me today!"

"Congratulations, Alice. Doesn't he live like seven hours away?"

"Yeah," she sighed dramatically, letting her small frame wilt across the table. "And they only allow me on visitor a month. But at least he'll be here!"

I smiled for her, genuinely happy that she was so happy. Of course, I knew that she wouldn't talk about anything else until he got here…

After Alice had finished having an in-depth discussion and debate about the likelihood that she would be allowed a conjugal visit, it was time for me to be "escorted" back to my cell. Fantastic.

"Bella!" Alice called when I was just a couple of yards away, between Curly and Mo, my two favorite guards.

"Yeah, Alice?"

"You never said- how was the session with Doctor McFu-"

"Shut up Alice!"

**A/N: Reviews please! Unless you're going to tell me that I obviously have never been in prison before since I am writing it all wrong, because you're right, I never have been in prison and it's not like I'm about to go and research it, am I?**


End file.
